“Mi Scusi” or alternatively “Snakes on a Train”

This past weekend I traveled to Monaco and Monte Carlo and also to Nice, France. It’s been a week now since we took a night train Thursday night at 11:30 to arrive in Monaco by 8:30 the next morning. But, that is where the adventure begins. If any of you have ever ridden on a train in Europe you now that the cheap seats are usually compartments with six seats in them. Of course, being students on a budget, this was the choice we opted for, instead of the sleeper compartments—bunkrooms with locks on the door…Keyword: locks.

Since the stop we got on at was not the first stop for the train, there was only one compartment left for the six of us—and to our luck—depending on which way you look at it—it didn’t have a curtain. So we--Jon, Bailey, Martin, Kyle, Omid and I, that is—sat up for a while snacking and chatting waiting until we got tired enough to try and go to sleep on the train.

After a while we began the process of trying to pack all six sardines into the tiny can that was our compartment. Luckily the seats in these compartments slide together flat, making one big pallet of sorts…that would be maybe be comfortable for three or four people—not six. We are lucky that it was uncomfortable though, because many of us couldn’t sleep that well, including Omid, my roommate—and the lightest sleeper of the bunch. He just so happened to get the “smashed against the door” spot in our tightly orchestrated positioning.

Now, rewind to the first week we got here. We had an Italian police officer come and speak with us about how to stay safe and not get robbed or mugged. It was really useful information, and scared us for a while—until we got a little more comfortable with our surroundings. I know many of us had heard horror stories about similar situations form family and previous students, but none of really thought we would see it so closely firsthand.

So, back to Omid. Being his roommate, I can attest to how light of sleeper he is. I can simply exhale loudly and he will shift in his bed. So as the rest of us clung to what little sleep we could get, Omid was only half asleep. Still facing the outside window with his back to the door/other window, he kept noticing a shift in the light in the reflection of the window he faced. He woke up to watch the reflected silhouette of a man scoping out our room. We were wealthy Americans with our Ipods, credit cards, and cash headed to a wealthy city were we we’re planning to drop some cash—cash that we obviously had with us at the time.

Sure enough, Omid—silently freaking out at this point—feels the door sliding open across his back. He obviously knew what was happening. The man wasn’t looking for a seat, because without a curtain in the compartment, he could see that not only were we full, we were packed full. Finally Omid has had enough, he takes a deep breath, flips over in a split second, and slams the door shut. The man simply said “Oh…Mi Scusi.” Italian for “excuse me.”

Now Omid is stuck. He can’t really call for help because he’s not really sure how to, and he can’t leave the compartment for fear of his own safety. Especially since the man speaks with his partner, who was there to make sure no conductors would be roaming that cabin during the wee hours of two and three in the morning. The guy now proceeds to take a seat in the hallway directly across from Omid to see what his reaction will be, while his partner moves down to the next compartment, sits down in the hallway, slowly slides the door to the darkened, curtained, room next to us. He pulls out the bag and wallet of another unsuspecting college student—takes his time going through everything—pulls out the money—and throws the incriminating evidence back in the compartment while shutting the door like nothing ever happened. At this point, Omid doesn’t really sleep the rest of the night.

The next morning, the rest of us awoke to beautiful views outside our windows on what appeared to be the European train equivalent to our Pacific Coast Highway. It was then that Omid recounted the whole story to us as we set in disbelief. We found out later from some of our other friends on the train that the bathroom was strewn with makeup cases and wallets that were no good to these merciless thieves. I guess all of this is why I woke up at some point during the night and saw Italian police pacing the hallways.

The rest of the weekend was wonderful, but luckily not as dramatic. Monaco is a beautiful city and a country—because apparently it’s both. The palace is interesting with its marching guard at the entrance and beautiful views of the sea. Wealth abounds here, as shown by the five Ferraris parked out front of the renowned Monte Carlo Casino. We weren’t able to see any of the high rollers’ tables, but we did visit the “one-armed bandits” in the poor man’s section of the casino.

Nice, France (pronounced like niece) is a very modernized, graffiti-ridden city, but still had its aesthetic values. Mainly beautiful were the town plaza and beautiful beaches—even in the rain—don’t ask me how I know. It was definitely a welcome break from Italy to see a little bit how the other parts of Europe live. I especially enjoyed the “Nicoise” specialty—eggplant and zucchini fritters—which almost made me feel like I was eating fried squash at home.

To sum it up, we all learned our lesson the easy way, luckily, and on the return train to Florence, we were so careful with our bags. The bottom line is, people are people, and most of them believe in doing good to one another. But any time you throw in the two elements of large cities and wealthy tourists, someone is going to be taken advantage of. This event doesn’t make me dislike Europe more or keep me from wanting to travel on a train again—it simply made me appreciate the many opportunities we have in America to trust each other. And that is one of the many reasons I am proud to call it my home.

Do good unto others always…,
Blake

Autmnal Equinox

(Sorry it's taken me a while to post this...I didn't get a good chance to articulate what I wanted to say this week so I change the post date to the date I actually started writing this...not the day I finally posted it -- Sunday.)


The autmnal equinox is when the sun crosses the celestial equator and day and night are both equal in length. This occurs on September 22. It is the astronomic event that marks the beginning of Fall.

I only know this fact because Monday we began our actual classes--after two-weeks of intensive Italian courses, and this is one of the first things we learned in my Astronomy class. The timing was way too ironic.

I knew something was different about this past Saturday--September 22. I had been in Italy for over two weeks, and I started to feel a little different. Saturday our director scheduled a wonderful event for us, so most of the Villa stayed here for the weekend instead of traveling around Europe. We went grape picking at a vineyard in the Tuscan countryside. The bus left at 7:30 AM, so we all got up early with the same sort of excitement that you get when you are preparing for a vacation. But, something was different for me. Yes, I was excited, but in a weird way. Something was a little off. It was that time of year, and I was in Italy...

The vineyard was in a word...beautiful. The sloping terrain of Tuscany allows for views of vineyards and olive tree groves for miles around. All 50 us glove-clad, bucket-carrying, scissors-in-hands students took out a good portion of the vineyard: 3-5 rows in about an hour and a half. The grapes glistened in the morning dew, the thud of grapes hit the bottom of the bucket with the sporadic tempo of African bongos, and some of the leaves had turned a beautiful mixture of red and gold. Followed by a tuscan country-style picnic with fresh meats and cheeses, pasta salad, sun-dried tomatoes (my favorite), and a whole spread to accompany. It was harvest time, and I felt so alive...sort of.

Then I realized what was missing: Fall. Fall is my favorite season and it elicits so many wonderful memories for me. Going to the fair, visiting Gatlinburg with my family to see the leaves change the mountains into warm earth tones, trick-or-treating, Alabama football, Thanksgiving Day with family, warm clothes, hot chocolate, campfires, and so many other things that i love. And if the moon can control the tides, I'm considering that this equinox may have affected the way I'm feeling as well.

See, I think I have myself figured out. No matter how hard I try to not let my surroundings affect my mood or overall outlook on life, I can't help it. I always have to be surrounded by new and different things so that I don't get fed up with the monotony of being in one place. Maybe that was part of the reason I went to Pepperdine--a change of scenery and a new lifestyle to enjoy. I have the sneaking suspicion that I am a wanderer--an adventurer--a traveler...and I don't think I'll ever be satisfied staying in one place for too long.

But along with this urge to travel, I'm so thankful that it's helped me to realize something else: an appreciation for home. That is in fact what I feel is one of the most important parts of travel and getting out of one's comfort zone. You appreciate the people, places, beliefs, and culture that have shaped who you are today. And that feeling is all the more in the South, where travel outside of the region makes one fully understand why we have the "Southern Hospitality" reputation. In fact, this could be the thesis statement of why this blog is called "Southern World Traveler"--it will hopefully be the intertwining of two things that are important to me and very much a part of who I am.

But, I am in Italy and along with the things I miss, there are new things to replace them. For example...Alabama football? Try a Florence vs. Rome soccer game that I attended Wednesday night (it's called Calcio here, not football like the rest of Europe)...where the hostility between the teams was more intense than an Alabama/Auburn game. I know it's hard to believe, but at least at the Alabama/Auburn games they don't have the equivalent of what the locals call the "Lion's Den." It's a three-story high cage with barbed wire at the top which surrounds the visiting team's section. And fans from both sides were still trying to throw bottles over the top of it--to the dismay of the riot police. Forget Rama-Jama-Yellahama....the stadium had surround-sound provided by the fans from both teams...shouting and singing what I'm guessing would be the American equivalent of bad-mouthing some opposing fan's mother. And of course, there were several flocks of birds that decided to visit the stadium...if you follow me.

To sum up my feelings, I guess the main thing I hope to come out of this year with is better knowledge of what I want out of life. By seeing more of what the world has to offer, I think my discernment about what's important to me and what I appreciate will be so much clearer. I am a wanderer--an adventurer--a traveler...and I'm standing at a crossroads.

Jeremiah 6:16a
This is what the LORD says: 
       "Stand at the crossroads and look; 
       ask for the ancient paths, 
       ask where the good way is, and walk in it, 
       and you will find rest for your souls.

(a new favorite verse of mine.)

Appreciating home--a little north of Rome,
Blake

No Reservations about Italy

It’s a Wednesday night and I’m sitting in the student center of our villa listening to the buzz of voices as other students make plans for their upcoming travels. Greece, Austria, London, and Spain are just a few of the names I hear being thrown out. We’ve been here about two weeks and we’ve almost finished with our intensive Italian course, and our regular classes start on Monday. We have so many different people here that I’m sure I’ll learn something from each of them. For example, I just got through taking a class in West Coast swing dancing tonight. Sunday night there is a self-defense class being taught (mainly for the girls) that one of the girls is teaching. Monday night we played soccer with some Italians and are planning on starting a team of our own in one of the Italian recreational leagues. Whether traveling or learning new things, there are literally endless possibilities before me…and that is somewhat overwhelming.

To catch you up, this past weekend was our first opportunity to travel on our own. So a few friends of mine—Jon, Kyle, Martin, Lucas, Melissa, and Jennaca—decided to visit an Italian tourist hotspot: The Cinque Terre…without reservations.

The Cinque Terre are five villages on part of the Italian Riviera. Each one is similar—but each one is unique. They are anywhere from mile to a couple of miles apart and there are hiking trails in between each of these small towns. These towns sit on cliffs above the sapphire blue of Mediterranean Sea. It’s beautiful, and the vistas are ironically similar to those in Malibu. And yes…the people do hang their laundry out to dry outside of their shutter-clad windows.

Saturday morning we got a train out of Firenze at 7:50 in the morning…and passed out on the way there. Luckily we woke up in time to get off at our stop and switch trains. The towns cluttered with stucco-ed buildings in every color of the rainbow…colors so intense that you’re sure there is a paint chip somewhere in a Home Depot with the name of that town on it. We didn’t discover much in the first town—Riomaggiore—except for the amazing views. We were in a hurry to hike to the next town. The first two hikes aren’t necessarily hikes…they’re cobblestone paved paths. One of those paths is called “Via dell’Amore” or “Lover’s Lane” and includes a “love seat” perched in front of a wrought-iron fence with the sea as a background. On this wrought-ironed gate are latched many “locks of love”. Young couples write their names on these attached locks and then throw the key over the railing into the sea… a symbol of their lasting love for each other.

The second town, Manarola, has a street that basically slopes down right into the sea…and the sides of the street are strewn with tiny fishing boats ready to be dragged out to gather the day’s catch. We stopped for a huge “10-Euro” pizza that we split among fives of us—from a place that obviously targeted tourists—but it was actually pretty good. We then made our way on to the third town—Corniglia—which is where we decide we better stop and start looking for rooms for the night. Of course, our program director had told us that the Cinque Terre was the only place she recommended students go without reservations—because each town is so small that many of the available rooms—in peoples homes, apartment complexes, or bed & breakfasts—are not reachable by phone or the web.

I think that she forgot that it is the end of summer and Italians have six weeks of vacation—so many of them had decided to go to the coast before the weather got cold—not to mention the Germans, English, Americans, and Australians we passed on the trails. So we started by calling all of the hotels that were suggested in out various guide books…keep in mind that most of them only spoke Italian and we barely speak it—dead end—no rooms. Fast-forward…we did what most Americans would be completely uncomfortable doing. We went into every coffee shop, bar and gelateria we could find and started asking around—still in Italian. Because Corniglia is a tiny town and only recently has had a huge tourist boom, every one knows everyone and knows who has rooms to rent. It was like my big fat Italian family—especially that evening when everyone started saying “Ciao” to the girls because they had met them earlier in the day. However, as with all things, the people wanted to make as much money as possible, so many would only book for a minimum of two nights. A glimmer of hope shone when a lady on the phone said she had a room and to meet her in the town square in ten minutes. Ok, but wait, which part is the town square…and how are we supposed to know what she looks like? Then Susanna came to the rescue. Susanna is originally from Lausanne, Switzerland and speaks fluent Italian and English. She lives in the Cinque Terre part of the year, and has been doing so for fifteen years. Finally, we were getting somewhere. She called the lady back, and met her daughter in the town square…where we were abruptly told that her mother was mistaken and that she didn’t have a room for us, because it was already promised to someone else. Ok, thanks anyway. It was at this point that the three guys who had split to cover more ground, came back to tell us that one of the hotels we had called now had a room for us. Huh? Oh, they thought we were Italians when we called before, but now that they know we are “Americans who spend a lot of money”, especially at the hotel restaurant that we were pretty much required to go to that night. FYI, don’t get “the assorted fried fish” unless you really want a true assortment. Ok, so that took care of the guys, but what about the girls? Susanna kept working hard for us and translating until we eventually had a room in an apartment complex for the girls. An immediate sigh of relief escaped from our lungs.

The next day, the somewhat treacherous hikes between the next two towns were probably the low points of the trip. They had beautiful views, but the heat made me sweat ridiculous amounts and the uneven rocky terrain made it difficult. I’m glad I did it though, because the sense of accomplishment was worth avoiding the ease of taking the trains. The dip in the sea at the end of the trail before jumping on the train home was the reward we had chased after the whole day.

Back to that afternoon after the room fiasco, the sun bathing on the rocks of a cove and cliff jumping into the sea were the highlights of the trip…and offered a great time to reflect on the events of that day. Why were we so stressed out about what had happened? Why did we say that we would never go on another trip without having reservations? My opinion…as Americans, we are sometimes scared to take chances and we idealize everything…especially our vacations. We need everything tamed, microwaveable, disposable, sanitized, scheduled, instant, online, and reserved. But other cultures and countries don’t work like that. They take siestas in the afternoon. They take six weeks vacation a year. They take the third Monday and the second Tuesday of each month off…or whenever they feel like it. Why do we need to be scheduled and planned and have all of these conveniences to feel comfortable? As for me I have no reservations about Italy, because I want to learn how to be focused on enjoying everyday life rather than working hard for some “life” in the future—whether it’s working for the weekend or the summer—or a bigger house or a better car. Life is what happens while you’re working for those things. So my wish for you and I is that we take a breath…enjoy the changing seasons…come back from lunch breaks late…stop and listen to street musicians…stay up late on Friday and sleep in Saturday…and live life instead of watching it happen around us.

Realizing what real life is,
Blake


P.S. I promise I’ll start writing these more often so that there is less to tell in one sitting, but until then bear with me on these long posts. I hope it will be worth your time!

Florence, Italy: slightly underrated, slightly overwhelming...

We’ve been here less than a week and already it feels as though we’ve been here at least a month…in a good way though. The faculty and professors have kept us so busy with orientation, outings, and intensive Italian courses that we haven’t had time to think about hardly anything else.

I can’t remember when I’ve walked this much in my life—I’ve got blisters on my feet but it has been good because it keeps off any extra weight from the pasta and other carbs we have had for almost every meal. The food in the Villa is great and I definitely think the kitchen has the Olive Garden philosophy “When you’re here you’re family”…minus the $40.00 check at the end. The gelato here is amazing…so much so that I don’t think I’ll be eating much ice cream when I get back to the states because I’ll be spoiled. There are literally gelaterias and coffee shops (called bars in Italy, f.y.i.) on every corner. The city looks exactly how you’d expect an Italian city to look…old antique buildings, windows with brightly colored wooden shutters, balconies with vines and flower boxes—with laundry hanging outside to dry.

The first night we were here we went to an overlook called Piazzale Michelangelo…which is an amazing place to see the skyline and lights of the city and the Duomo (famous cathedral.) In the middle of the “square” there is a copy of Michelangelo’s “The David.” (The original is in a museum in Florence.) The next night we went to the train station to learn about how to purchase tickets and figure out which trains to take for al of the traveling we are going to be doing. After that we went to get gelato in the center of down town where all of the streets are used as sidewalks and the city comes alive with people walking around enjoying the beautiful architecture and people watching. After gelato we explored some more, realizing that it was an Italian holiday and that is why everyone was out and about. Which is also the same reason we stumbled on a Renaissance marching band dressed in full regalia and another musician playing an instrument I had never seen before—I’m guessing something crossed between a cello and a guitar.

In the spirit of keeping this entry shorter rather than longer, the next events of interest were the two outings we made on Sunday to Sienna and Santo Gimignano. Sienna is probably one of the coolest cities I have ever been to. It is divided into 17 "contradas", which are basically just different sections of the city, with each section having its on crest, color scheme, and mascot. Every year, twice a year (July 2 and August 16), they have a horse race in the town square called “il Palio.” Each section of the city has a rider and whoever wins gets bragging rights until the next race. The Piazza del Campo (town square) is completely filled with people and they cover the bricks with sand to make a track to protect the horses’ hooves—so the piazza looks completely different during the race.

The city is walled and all the buildings are connected—with little alleyways branching off here and there—and new shops and cafés to discover around every corner. One gets the feeling that he or she could spend a year or more there and keep discovering new little bits of charm and character every day—a new balcony you’ve never seen before—a little apartment stuck in a nook that you never noticed. The only way I can explain it is that it has a very antique yet Disneyland feeling at the same time. Like it’s really old and cool—but it still feels “fake” because it’s almost too cliché. One feels like “Every Italian poster I’ve ever seen shows a scene like this…but I didn’t know it looked like this on every corner.” (Hope that makes sense.) Santa Gimignano was just as cool because it was similar—but more medieval looking—with 15 towers that still stand in the town—the only ones left of what were once more than 70. In enjoyed the many sweeping vistas and panoramas of the Tuscan countryside—vineyards, olive groves, villas and all. It also had a unique torture museum that I wish I had time to visit—and a cathedral with amazing frescoes and paintings—everything inside was so ornate that the whole thing was overwhelming.

Finally, over the past few days—starting on Monday—we’ve been immersed in intensive Italian language classes. I can’t deny that it has been very difficult and mentally draining. It starts with breakfast at 7:30 and then two hours of class in the mornings. Two hours of an “uscita” (outing) where we go into the city and try out our Italian. And two more hours of class after lunch. Many Italians speak very little to no English—which means you have to give it a try even if you feel incompetent—which in a way is a good thing because it motivates us to really learn the language. During the outings we are escorted by students from one of the local universities, which has been the best part of the whole experience. It is really fun because they speak very little English and we speak little Italian—so it feels like such an accomplishment when we can actually have a conversation with them. But, yesterday some friends and I tried to bargain with a shopkeeper on the price of used bikes for about twenty minutes. That was interesting—we ended up not buying them because we were definitely getting ripped off—and all he would say is “mi dispiace” (I’m sorry).

This weekend is the first weekend we have the opportunity to travel on our own, so a couple of friends and I are going to a place called “La Cinque Terra” – The five villages. We’re taking a train and then doing the “touristy” thing by hiking between all five of the villages. It’s on the coast, so it should be a nice time to enjoy the end of summer here before it gets cold. Planning travel in Italy is definitely difficult because many small hotels and bed & breakfasts don’t have websites, have complicated open hours, or speak very little English. Our plan right now is to go without a reservation and find a hotel there—but I guess that is the joy of being flexible and the only real way to learn any better. Everyone who offers travel advice offers different advice, so we definitely end up being on our own for decision-making. But I guess it lets us have our own experience without any expectations. Anyway—I’ll let you know how it goes…and thanks for sticking with me to the end of this really long post…so much to tell—so little time, but I’ll write again soon. Grazie! Ciao!

Living “La Dolce Vita” (the sweet life),
Blake

Intro: It's something unpredictable...but in the end it's right.

I’m not sure if it’s the four hours of sleep I got last night or the two cups of coffee I had this morning but I’m jittery and have an empty feeling in my stomach, even though I just had a short stack of pancakes at Coogie’s. Last night was definitely a night that I didn’t really want to end, even though I was exhausted and had a headache.

It started out at a restaurant that definitely ranks among my favorites—C & O’s Trattoria in Venice Beach, California—slightly ironic that it is an open-air café that makes one feel as though he is literally on the sidewalks of an Italian city—ironic because soon I will see the real thing.

Some of my favorite people in the world were there—it was a birthday/ going away party—so that’s one of the reasons it was so special. I’m sure the flashes of our cameras were getting on the other diners’ nerves, but we didn’t care—we were living in the moment and it felt so good. Why? We were like members of a high school football team or a couple of army buddies getting together over a few drinks—minus the alcohol—we were reliving the good times and glory days of our past year together.

Wow has it really been a year since I first came to Pepperdine?…It is times like this—in the company of so many amazing people—each special to me in their own ways--that I know that coming to Pepperdine and California was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Omid, Laura, Rachel, Emily, Josh, Daniela, Matthew, Gio, Michael, Tory, and Alex—not to mention a couple of others who couldn’t be there—are literally what makes Pepperdine my home away from home.

I’m certain this sinking feeling is there because of all the uncertainty about tomorrow and the coming months—is that contradictory? Oh, By the way, I leave to go to Italy for eight months tomorrow...and I still have a to-do list that’s way to long to fit on a post-it note…and I’m not sure how it’s going to get done…or even sure if it matters. I know the minute I get through airport security tomorrow—to me the most stressful part of traveling—I will be fine and shifting from the “freaking out” stage to the “super excited I’m going to Italy” stage.

I hope to write about the good times and the bad...the countries I vist and the people I meet...but most of all--I hope to write about the journey that this next year will be...one of self-discovery and self-reliance...one of growing and learning...one of life-changing proportions. Stay tuned if you want to go on that journey with me...it should be fun.

I'll miss y'all,
Blake